What Grows Beneath the Nettle
by Lizardbeth J
Summary: In the wake of tragedy, Sif discovers Loki's secret. They have to work together to save Asgard's future, even as they rekindle the past...
1. Chapter 1

**NOTE: **This was written for the Mischief & Mistletoe (Loki/Sif) holiday exchange on tumblr.

It's a small AU for _Thor: The Dark World_, changing how it ends for Thor a little.

The title comes from _Henry V._

* * *

.

Loki was on his guard the moment the Warriors Three, Sif, and Heimdall approached the throne. Heimdall should be in his usual watch post, not coming to the throne room. For him to come at all when the situation was so fluid bespoke a bigger problem.

He checked the illusion which bound his feature. It was not quite as reflexive as the one he kept his true appearance at bay, but it was holding. He'd not let it slip. They couldn't know. If they did, they would hardly be so foolish as come without more guards or weapons.

Yet, why come all together if not suspicion?

His grip tightened on Gungnir and he met the golden eyes steadily. "You have news, Watcher?"

Heimdall nodded his head briefly in respect. "My king. I do." He hesitated and Loki waited, glancing at the other four who - on closer examination - seemed disturbed by something, but not in a way that suggested they were angry.

Heimdall continued, "I watched as Thor battled Malekith as the Convergence continued. He was successful, as we know, as the aether left but a trace, and Malekith's ship was destroyed."

"We are still here," Loki cut in, impatient with this recital of events he already knew. "I know he had the victory. Days past now. I assume you come to report that Thor yet dallies with his mortal on Midgard and does not wish to return."

"No, my liege. I come to report that the mortal Jane Foster is upon Midgard, but Thor is not. He is not on Svartalfheim. Or, in fact, anywhere that I see. He is… gone."

Loki froze, as the words struck him incomprehensibly at first. "Gone?" he repeated blankly. "What - what do you mean by that? Heimdall?"

"I am sorry, my liege. He is beyond my sight. It was difficult to follow him through the convergence, but I have looked and he is … nowhere. Nor has he called my name. It may be he fell within Malekith's vessel, or was taken by the aether, or… I do not know what occurred, but he is not perceptibly within the Nine Realms. I waited until I was certain to report this." Then he bowed his head and waited.

"That is…" Loki couldn't find words, staring at the golden form that dared deliver this news to him. First Frigga, then Odin, and now this?

Within, a tiny voice sneered at him, _isn't this exactly what you wanted_?

But no, it was not. He had said it, he had made a couple of pathetic attempts to do it himself, but he had never meant it, not this. Not for Thor to be actually **gone**.

"That is impossible," he whispered. "Not Thor, also."

No wonder the others were here. They thought he might collapse under this weight of tragedy.

They were right. When he tried to stand, his knees threatened to buckle and he had to clutch onto Gungnir as if he were an old man in fact, not just illusion. But he straightened.

"No," he insisted in a stronger voice. "I do not accept this." Heimdall's head shot upward as if he would protest that he told the truth, but Loki overrode him, "You see far, old friend, but not everything. Did you not say that Loki too was gone, in the void of the Bifrost, but he returned." He saw it on their faces, their instinctive desire to remind him that Loki had perished again - Heimdall had seen that, too, as Loki had intended.

Odin slept deep in the warrens, and he wore Loki's face, as insurance, in case anyone stumbled upon it. No one would try to wake the villain locked in deathlike slumber.

_So why don't you wake, old man? Your treasured son is missing, your hated one has stolen your throne… you're going to wait for exactly the wrong moment to wake up and ruin everything, aren't you?_

He had kept silent for too long, as even Hogun's face started to crease in concern. "We will not relinquish hope that he survived. Continue your search, Heimdall, and I will use what arts I have to see in other ways," he declared.

He moved down the steps and started past the warriors.

"My king, should we not tell-" Fandral started hesitantly.

"Nothing. We tell nothing," Loki snapped. "We know nothing certain, and I will not drag the Realm into deeper mourning and uncertainty. For now, if any inquire, Thor remains on Midgard, assisting them in the wake of the attack. Everything here is under control."

Yet he lifted his eyes and saw the others in the hall, who had heard. The news would not stay quiet long.

They bowed and he left them, to head to his chambers. He passed the workers who were cleaning and repairing the rubble left both by the primary attack and then Thor's impetuous and poor escape flight out. The loose rubble had all been taken away, the throne itself was repaired, but much work remained to replace all the damage. Even when it was all fixed, it would still bear the scars, even if they were hidden, of a battle that should never have happened, and the wounds of immortal lives cut short.

Or there was only one loss Loki cared about, but that one still burned. It was a poor consolation to think she had perished protecting the aether from Malekith, when Malekith had ended up with it anyway. And now Thor was missing.

Inside the king's chamber he shut the doors and let the illusion fall, relieved to be without it for a time, even under these circumstances. When he'd impetuously made the swap, he'd never expected it to be a burden, but the illusion seemed to have physical weight on him, like some strange form of geas.

A gesture formed a green flame in the brazier on the side table, and he sat down before it to look for Thor.

_If you are tupping your wench right now, I swear I will ice all your sheets, even if that gives the game away_, he promised darkly, as he held both hands before the light.

He knew that was not so, since Heimdall would never prank anyone, least of all the king about a matter like this. But with luck Thor was somewhere Heimdall couldn't see. Loki knew full well there were places and people and spells that could block the seer's gaze. But locator spells could penetrate many of those barriers.

The flame had little heat to it, as he built it stronger, weaving the locator spell with a murmur and gesture of his fingers. "Now where are you?" he murmured. "I hope with better company than I had, brother."

The fire sputtered, not finding him, and Loki fed more power into it, carefully, to widen his search. Asgard first, Jotunheim, Vanaheim, and Svartalfheim as the most likely places.

His head began to ache and his fingers trembled beneath the strain of holding the spell. _Where are you, Thor_?

Reluctantly, he widened the spell again to Midgard, to scan the vast and tedious multitude there. Then to the other Realms within Jormungandr and then the spaces in between, the void where Loki had once fallen, and the dark realms beyond that as far as he could reach.

When that failed, he pulled back to Asgard to start the search again, finer and slower this time.

For nothing. Thor was nowhere.

Exhaustion was like a spike through his skull, as he opened his eyes to the fire as it winked out. Gone. "You aren't dead," he insisted in a hoarse voice, staring blankly at the cold brazier. "I don't believe it. I won't."

Sudden fury clutched him and he shoved all of it away, power flaring. His seat toppled backward, as the table went flying. "All for your miserable human pet!" he yelled. "You stupid sentimental fool!"

As abruptly as it came, the rage left him huddled up on the floor, weary and heartsick. He held his head, fingers tugging at his hair though his head hurt enough he barely felt it.

_Is it because I cheated Death that she comes for my family? Is this the blood price extracted because I keep slipping free? If I promise that next time I will accept it, will you give back my brother? You took my mother already, you cannot take him, too. I will do whatever I must, pay whatever price the ancestors ask, just … not Thor, too._

* * *

Sif pulled the short straw with a grimace. "Come on, Volstagg. It should be you. You've known the king the longest…"

"He tolerates my face rarely as is," Volstagg said. "And I have no words to offer."

"You think I do?" she countered.

"He knows you mourn as he does," Fandral said. "We were friends, but you…"

_You wanted more,_ she finished for him and grimaced again. Everybody thought that, and they were all wrong. It had never been Thor. Everyone said things like "Thor and the Lady Sif" as if it was one word. That had always been irritating, but she'd accepted the jests, unwilling to admit the truth, even to herself. The queen had known it and had given her counsel which Sif had promptly ignored, and now her foolishness had been paid in another loss.

_If I had spoken other words, if I had not assumed the worst and earned his enmity, if I had learned the truth earlier and offered my hand_…

It wouldn't have made a difference, she told herself. A wolf and a raven had no future together.

"Check on him," Hogun said. "The report from his chamber is worrisome. Rumors are spreading that the entire family is dead … I fear for all the Realms, if that happens."

Sif had to grant that point. Even if the king was in Odinsleep and Thor was missing - because he was _not_ dead - that was the same problem. Asgard would be ruled by a regent's council until someone gathered enough support among the Einharjar and old families to be crowned, and that could take years. The other Realms and enemies would seek advantage in the void.

It was terrible to admit, but it was true - for the first time in thousands of years, Asgard was weakened. They needed the king to stay strong.

"Fine," she agreed with a nod and headed for the king's chamber. He would not want to see her, or anyone, she was sure, but perhaps if she made it plain that his kingdom and people still needed him, he would emerge.

The guards nodded to her, and both looked grateful that someone at last was willing to enter despite the king's command. At her request, one pulled the door open for her. The chamber was dim, lit only by the stars streaming through the high windows. "My king?" she called softly, but there was no response.

She moved like a wraith through the archway into the inner chamber. Even in the gloom, she could see it was a ruin of broken furniture and strewn fabric all around, as though a great storm had come through the room and left only chaos in its wake. "My king?"

From behind her, came a hoarse voice, barely the king's, "You so blithely ignore my command?"

"Not blithely, my liege," she said. "With heavy heart. It has been five days…" She turned slowly, to find the king on the floor, his back to the wall, outer cloak rent, and white hair lank and tangled. Gungnir lay on the floor a full body length away. She restrained a gasp - the king had never appeared such to her eyes, so worn and … defeated. It seemed sacreligious to think the word.

He stirred, as if considering pushing himself to his feet or otherwise pretending to better health, but then slumped back against the wall. "Has it been so long?" he asked and let out a bitter soft laugh. "And all for naught."

"You found nothing." That was plain. He would have come out if he'd found Thor.

He shook his head once, and she blinked and frowned. Her eyes were playing tricks in the vague light so it seemed he'd had no beard for a moment. "I searched twice," he answered. "With all the powers at my command. There was no sign."

She went to one knee before him, as he seemed disinclined to rise, and made her voice soft, "Perhaps there is nothing to find."

"There is and I shall find it," he promised. "I shall use the tesseract and comb the universe, atom by atom, until he is found."

As pale and weary as he looked, she thought that was a spectacularly terrible idea. "Not soon, I hope, my liege. You seem - forgive me - as if you need rest first."

He raised his head to meet her gaze, his usual hawk-ish glare banked to embers. But his lips curled in a weary bemusement. "Such softness from Lady Sif? I barely recognize you…"

"We all worry for you, my king."

"Do you?" he returned and gave another short laugh, more to himself as he muttered, "Ah, it tastes so bitter now."

She frownd in confusion at his words, but did not parse his meaning, persisting instead, "Will you come forth? The Realm seeks comfort and stability amid all this loss and ruin."

"They know nothing of loss and ruin," he snarled. She frowned at the echo of other angry words; the tone seemed so familiar yet struck her oddly.

He straightened against the wall and called Gungnir back to his hand, though she saw his other hand clench with the effort. "Tomorrow," he said. "You and the Warriors Three must go to Svartalfheim. Much may be hidden there in the wild magic released with the destruction."

She frowned. "I thought the Bifrost could not reach Svartalfheim now that the Convergence has passed."

He was momentarily stymied by that, as though he'd forgotten, and leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. "Yes, of course. I must send you by portal. But it shall not be tomorrow." He pushed fingers through his hair, shoving it back off his face, and again she felt teased by an odd familiarity. "Go, now, Sif. I must rest to begin the search anew."

She hesitated, then offered, "My king, I know your worry and grief must be great, but I would remind you that the people have only you, right now. You must not spend yourself and leave us with no one."

He chuckled once, making her draw back in shock, since she hadn't intended to be humorous. "And what have I?" he murmured, not looking at her. "Everything yet nothing at all."

He lifted his free hand and flicked his fingers. "Go, now. You should not see an old king's weakness."

She nodded and rose back to her feet. "My king." She started for the door to leave him his privacy once more, but in the archway, she turned back to offer her hope that Thor might yet be found. Odin had not moved, resting against the wall, but something had changed. The silver starlight caught his form with a strange glow, as if it were ghostly and transparent.

And within the shimmering outline, there was a different shape: slimmer, with sharper features, clean-shaven and hair that vanished into the shadows.

Her eyes widened in shock at this impossibility. He was supposed to be dead. "Loki!"

His eyes shot open and he glanced her way, startled. The other image was gone, and Odin was there again, as if she'd never seen anything else. Yet she knew now it was a lie. For a moment, they stared at each other, shock paralyzing them both.

Then in his familiar sardonic tone, which was strange coming from Odin's face, Loki said in bemused resignation, "I knew I should have warded the doors."

She didn't have her sword but she grabbed a dagger off the wall display and stalked back to him. "You betraying traitor."

The image of the king disappeared to reveal Loki beneath, hair slicked back, usual green and black leather and coat forming. But her step faltered, as the picture shifted again, flickering twice and then fading into a version of Loki in scarcely better condition than what he'd cast of Odin. His cheeks were thin and his skin looked pale as ice, and his raven hair hung in untidy, limp waves to his shoulders. He was wearing a simple green tunic and black breeches, and didn't try to rise, as he watched her approach with eyes smudged with exhaustion.

But there was no weariness in the grin he offered as he looked up at her, with a irritating lack of alarm. "I missed you, too."

"Where's the king?"

"You mean his corpse?" he countered and his eyes glinted. "You assumed I murdered him for power before, and I had ever so much more cause this time."

"You monster. I should kill you right now." She knelt and held out the blade before his face in a swift attack. He didn't flinch, just stared into her eyes.

"Ah Sif, if only you would," he murmured. "But you won't."

"You assume too much, trading on mercy I do not possess." She pressed the tip of the knife into the open collar of his shirt into his skin. He didn't move. "Not for you."

"Not mercy." His lip curled as if the idea were distasteful.

"I promised to kill you, did you not believe me?" She pressed the knife harder, finally getting a wince as the tip broke the skin.

"If I betrayed him, which I did not," he protested.

"You sit on his throne! What insanity is it that you think stealing it away is no betrayal?"

"If Thor were here, we would not be having this discussion," he hissed.

"You betrayed the Allfather-"

"He betrayed me first," Loki interrupted sharply.

"So you murdered him and stole his throne, and- and you did something to Thor! This whole saga has been nothing but one of your plans all along!"

That accusation finally broke his restraint. "Yes of course!" he snapped at her with deep sarcasm, "I planned for my idiot brother to disappear where I can't find him! And I planned for Odin Allfather to drop like a rock at the most inconvenient time possible. Malekith and I planned to destroy all the Nine Realms, and murder my mother, because that's what monsters do! That's what you all think, so why not?" His expression was ravaged and furious, and Gungnir slammed into her hand and then her shoulder, shoving her back. He was breathing hard as she recovered her balance, shifting her dagger to the other hand. Then he glanced down at Gungnir as if he'd forgotten he'd had it and hadn't meant to use it. He tossed it to the side, where it rattled against the floor and she found her eyes on it until it settled, and back to Loki afterward.

He said, "There. I'm done with this farce. I have no dagger and barely a shred of power left. I admit to all of it. Do as you please."

She hesitated. It had to be a bluff. He wasn't truly surrendering. But where did the illusion end with him and where was the truth?

"It comes as a relief," he added. "I don't know why I ever wanted to be king in the first place. What a tedious bunch of complainers, who look to the king for every single decision, as if they have no wills of their own." He tilted his head back against the wall and shut his eyes in what seemed to be weariness, not caring what she did next, even if it was to kill him.

She considered his words. He was admitting to great crimes, but at the same time, she knew some of it was false. "Were you truly looking for Thor?" she asked.

"No, I was watching him pace the cage where I put him," he retorted smirking.

She shut her eyes and prayed for patience. "This is not the time for games. Tell me the truth."

"The truth?" he repeated and laughed bitterly. "Why should I? Everyone will assume the worst anyway. So I shall take my small amusements, now that the bigger game is ended."

"Being king is no game."

He rolled his eyes. "It is the biggest game of all. It should make you wonder if he was that good a king how I could step in his place without anyone noticing, shouldn't it?"

He had a point. She certainly had had no suspicions at all until coming in here, when his own weariness had shattered the illusion. He hadn't intended to let her see, she was sure of that. Which meant the search for Thor must have been real. There was no knowing what he would do once he found Thor, but she was confident the search had been real. Five days of magic searching had worn him down. She lowered the dagger. "Where is Thor?"

As if he could see that she had figured out the truth, he stopped playing and shrugged. "I can trace him to Svartalfheim then nothing. Either he slipped through a gate to some distant dimension beyond Jormungandr, or he has been taken and hidden by some greater power, or …"

"Or he's dead," she finished softly and he nodded once.

"Or that." He pushed back his hair with the same gesture she'd seen before, and pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead with a grimace as if his head hurt him. "I thought I would be glad. But…" His lips parted as if he'd finish, before he swallowed and looked away. "I know you won't believe it, after everything, but… I don't want that."

He wouldn't look at her, as if the admission was somehow shameful or he didn't want to see her doubt. But she found she did believe it. _Somewhere in that cold broken thing left of your heart you do still care, and you're just tired enough to admit it_. She knew better than to say it aloud.

"And the Allfather? What happened to him?"

His lips quirked in a wry smile. "What always happens? I confronted him, we argued, and he collapsed." He snorted and shook his head. "Odinsleep's a rather extreme way to avoid my questions, and I was furious that he did it to me again." His hand curled and lifted, unconsciously mimicking his actions, "I had my dagger in my hand, I was going to stab him in the heart and get him out of my misery forever, and … I couldn't do it." His hand lowered to his lap. "Some pathetic, lingering shard of sentiment I suppose."

She was relieved that the king was alive. Unless Loki was lying about that. "Where is he?"

"Below," he gestured with his hand vaguely. "Safe. I expected him to rouse to rescue Thor again, but so far he's being quite dull."

She eased back from her crouch to regard him, now reasonably convinced of what had actually happened. "So why did you take his appearance?"

"Why not?" He gave another shrug, unrepentant. "He fell at my feet, and I seized the opportunity. Thor was absent, Asgard needed a king, and it was rightfully mine. In Odin's face no one would betray me." He flicked a sour glare at her. "Again."

She left that alone, deciding to ask the important question, "Why are you surrendering? Why are you telling me this?"

He lifted his brows at her, lips twisting into a wry smile, but his amusement faded for greater anger as he spoke. "Am I supposed to fight? Why? For a throne I no longer want, that binds so tightly I can't breathe? For vengeance when I have no one to take it on? For power when I know what's out there is coming to kill us all and I'm not even strong enough to find my stupid brother? When I let a monster kill my mother? I put it all together to avenge her, but to _what end_?" His voice rose to a shout, as he gestured with one hand around the room. "This? Who would want _this_?" he demanded furiously, then fell back against the wall, letting out a long breath.

His voice was calm again when he contineud, "The answer is, I am weary to the bone, Sif. I have spent everything in this futile search. I have nothing left to resist you."

She smiled. "So you're playing for time until you get strong enough to escape?"

He returned the smile, a quick amused flash. "Beautiful and clever, too."

"Empty flattery will avail you nothing, Silvertongue."

Some shadow of hurt flickered across his features before he smirked, "And yet I think calling you ugly and stupid will not avail me either."

"Definitely not." She looked at him closely. He rarely had allowed anyone to see him looking so unkempt, but she was also sure this was much closer to the truth than he would usually portray. She was not such a fool that she believed he was truly as weak as he looked or that he wouldn't fight if she pressed him, but she thought much of what he'd said in anger and frustration had been true.

"Kingship not everything you thought it would be?" she mocked.

His smile widened and he said with a sly provocation, "Perhaps mortals would be less annoying to rule."

She snorted a laugh. "Did you not learn they would be worse?"

"Worse than Aesir? Impossible. It is herding turtles to get them to repair the great hall - I tell them to make it exactly as it was and yet still they pester me with inane questions. Then they whine when I order something as obvious and necessary as build more defensive fortifications. I daily restrain myself from killing the stupidest ones!" His frustration made her grin at him until he frowned at her. "What?"

"Listen to you. You sound like an actual king," she teased. It was an unexpected attitude, but interesting.

He looked away, grumbling, "Playing a role. Nothing more."

Which told her it _was_ more, if he was downplaying its importance.

She hesitated, and then made up her mind. "I want you to show me the Allfather. Prove to me he's alive and that much of your story is true."

"And then what?" he asked.

"And then… we'll see."

He cocked his head a bit to one side, regarding her curiously as though she was doing something completely unexpected. "What are you planning?" He might have guessed, but thankfully he didn't say it, because she hadn't convinced herself of it yet either. Saying it aloud she might realize how reckless and ridiculous it was.

"Just show me, and we'll talk."

He raised both hands as if to let her have her way, and said, "Ordinarily I would teleport there. But right now, we would likely end up in a wall. And I refuse to die so stupidly, after surviving so much worse. We'll have to walk."

"All right."

He waited a moment and when she said nothing, he demanded, as though she should have known what he wanted, "In my face or his?"

"His. The king needs to be seen." Nor did she want to deal with the questions that Loki's face would bring. Odin's would bring enough.

He winced as though the thought gave him actual pain. "Very well." He raised a hand. "If you could help an old man to his feet?"

She hesitated, wondering if he meant some trickery or attack, but he added impatiently, "If you want to see him. Because your choice right now is to help me stand, or I fall asleep right here."

"No tricks," she warned, and he smirked at her, as she clasped her hand around his forearm. It was thinner than she recalled, especially since he was without armor, and she pulled him to his feet easily. There were no tricks; instead, he staggered, nearly falling with an utter lack of his usual grace, and his grip tightened on her arm until he steadied himself. Then he stepped away and shut his eyes.

The change flowed back over him with a coruscating glow, and then Odin was there again. He seemed restored, strong and well, but when she looked more closely the skin of his cheeks and eyes seemed tight, and beneath the beard his jaw was clenched. She asked, "Does it hurt?"

"No," he answered shortly. "But if you want this, we should go swiftly. I can do little but hold it."

He flipped Gungnir up with his foot - something she had never seen Odin do, but Loki had done with his weapons all the time until he had learned to conjure them to his hand. He glanced at her afterward, as if to check that she had seen, and he shrugged. "You know it's me."

She rolled her eyes at him and headed for the door.

The doors parted for the king's approach automatically, and the guards outside snapped to formal attention.

She glanced sidelong, but the illusion was perfect, with not a twitch of his lips to give away that he was not Odin. No wonder no one had guessed.

When they were momentarily alone in the hall and without looking at her, he muttered, "People are going to talk if you keep looking at me that way, Sif."

She snapped her eyes forward, cheeks suddenly hot by the implication. The king? Oh dear lords, no, never.

They were not able to get away quite as easily as she had hoped, as first the Warriors Three crowded around - Volstagg casting her a 'told you so' look from under his shaggy brows, and she held her tongue, since he had _no idea_. They were soon sent away, sobered by the news that Thor was still missing.

Freyr was next to ask about defensive postures, and Loki answered him, but ordered a council later to discuss it. It was uncanny- despite knowing it was Loki beneath the illusion, it could have been Odin there. Or, if it wasn't exactly as Odin would have done it, it was not Loki, either, with no sneering or jokes, only thoughtful answers.

The master of the reconstruction project started to approach with a hesitant bow, until Odin's eye glared at him and stopped him flat. He turned and scurried away. Sif had to chuckle at that. Then Odin turned to her again, "Shall we, my lady? There is something you wished me to show you."

"Yes, my liege," she answered for the benefit of the listeners.

He sent away his personal guards and led her beneath the main part of the palace. Soon he stopped before a small, plain door and he gestured to a lantern hanging beside the door. "You will need that."

She took it in one hand and turned it on, and peered inside the door, seeing only a stone spiral staircase heading downward. She waited, not wanting to go through that door first and possibly let him trap her on the other side. He gave an impatient sigh as if she were being tedious and went ahead of her. "Do you want to see or not?"

Once the door was shut behind them, he dropped the Odin illusion with a relieved sigh and headed down the stairs. His progress was slow and careful on the steps, finding each with Gungnir before stepping down. She wanted to go quicker, nearly stepping on his heels, until he snapped, "I have not gone this way in two hundred years. The steps are very old. So either move ahead so you can use the lantern, or stand back."

"You know you're not truly an old man, right?" she teased.

His head turned and he looked up at her, eyes bright in the lamp's reflection. "I'm glad you noticed."

"Not like that," she retorted and he chuckled smugly.

She said as they went down the steps, "You can't be glad I saw that you were lying to us about the Allfather."

"Glad, no. But I never expected it to last forever." His voice seemed to float back to her, echoing from the narrow, curved walls, strange and sad. "Come, Sif, there are only four hundred thirty-nine more steps."

She groaned and followed him down into the dark, deciding if she was going to be reckless she wasn't turning back now.

* * *

tbc...


	2. Chapter 2

Loki's hand tightened on Gungnir, leaning on it, wanting to at least conjure a bit of light at the tip, but that seemed an extravagance right now when he was trying to hoard what energy he had left.

Sif was still breathing down his neck and he contemplated doing what she feared and leaving her down here. He could keep up the masquerade, and be king, and ... and...

His thoughts always petered out there. Being king was better than imprisonment or death, but it had turned out to be a literal pain. And what was it worth anyway, if Odin would get all the accolades for any good he'd do and he'd get only the scorn and the cries of traitor and hate?

And Thor was missing - not dead, couldn't be dead- and Odin was asleep, and what was the point of it all?

Maybe Sif was contemplating letting him go. But no, she would do her duty, for the good of the Realm, and try to chain him up again. He already knew how the confrontation was going to go. They would fight because she would try to stop him, and he would escape and they would chase him, and it would all start over.

Ordinarily that might sound exciting, but right now it sounded only fatiguing. He sighed aloud.

"These are really boring stairs," she agreed. "Why the hells did you bring him here?"

"Someone might have tripped on him if I left him on the floor," he answered drily. He should have expected her to react to that, but the feel of her hand on his shoulder was his only warning as she shoved him. His feet slipped right off the step, and it was a short fall downward, hard. Gungnir rang loudly on the stone as he wedged it against the central pillar, halting his fall, and he ended in an awkward sprawl on the steps.

"Must you?" he demanded in annoyance as he straightened, and let go of the spear long enough to test his fingers and wrist.

"You're not hurt, don't be a baby." She came closer with the lantern, looking down at him with a smile. "You can dish it out, but not take it, ever notice that?"

"If I break my neck it'll be a lot less fun for everybody," he muttered, pushing himself back to his feet. "Now, if you're quite finished pretending we're children again, can we continue?"

"I think you dropped your sense of humor," she teased. "You should pick it up first."

"Everyone's always telling me to stop making jests, until I do, and then I'm supposed to be funny," he muttered as he started to pick his way down the steps again.

Whether it was the fall or the multitude of steps making him lose concentration, he missed another step and had to put his other hand against the wall to find his balance again. One hundred five more, he told himself, wearily amused. _All this for you and Thor, old man, and you won't appreciate it at all._

He wrenched his wandering attention back to the steps before he fell again. Finally he made it to the bottom where the steps ended into a wide stone archway.

Deep benath the city, where the roots of Asgard bound themselves to Yggdrasil, there were gaps in the stone of the Realm, where the water flowed before falling off the edge into the nothing. This was one of those gaps, a large hollow cave, cool and damp from a river that ran through the center of it. Loki walked to the edge, the water barely contained in its rush to oblivion.

Sif followed him, her eyes captured by the single stone that broke the flow of the water. Above the water's reach, there was a body lying on that narrow isle. Loki found it disturbing to see his own face look that way, especially when the illusion was wearing his usual leathers, so it looked more like him than he did himself.

She glanced at him, looking alarmed. "It's you."

He raised Gungnir and channeled it to peel back the illusion, relieved to show her Odin, instead. Loki had laid him there properly, hands folded on his chest, with a little pillow under his head.

"Is he alive?" she asked softly. "He looks… dead."

He pointed with Gungnir to set the bridge aglow, so she could see the narrow, transparent span that arched delicately over the water to the small island. Her eyes widened in surprise. "Check for yourself."

She took two steps toward it and then stopped, going back and putting a hand on the knife at her waist. She glared into his eyes. "Don't go anywhere or I will hunt you down and kill you."

He couldn't help a chuckle and grin at her threat. It was hard not to be amused, when everyone was so insistent on threatening him with something he had stopped fearing. "Ah, Sif, always so charming."

"I mean it," she promised.

"So do I. But I will stay. If you fall into the water, you'll need someone to fish you out."

First she stiffened with the implication that she would be that clumsy or need help, but then she narrowed her eyes at him, realizing it could be a threat, as well. He returned her look, letting a smile play at his lips, as she decided what to do. Straightening her shoulders, she marched straight to the delicate structure.

"Do tread lightly," he called. "The bridge is at least as old as the fossil you go to see, and I don't use it myself."

She hesitated and looked back over her shoulder. "Show some respect."

He was done with respect for Odin, but he pretended not to take her meaning. "Fine. Next time I won't warn you, then."

With an irritated breath, she stepped up on the bridge and probably strained her neck from refusing to watch him and see if he was going to do something to the bridge. As much as it would solve the problem of her finding out his masquerade, and she knew it, she didn't back down from making it a test for him as much as it was a risk for her.

He called the energy in his palm, into a sphere he could throw at the bridge and bring it down either with her on it or to trap her on the island. It crackled against his palm, vaguely soothing even though the ache in his head and down his spine warned him that he really shouldn't be playing with it without expecting the consequences.

She stepped onto the island and glanced at him, surprised that she had made it without interference. He had his fingers turned away so she couldn't see the soft glow, and he smiled at her, lifting his brows as if her suspicions had been unwarranted.

She knelt at the king's side and touched his cheek, which Loki knew from experience was still warm. He was sleeping, not dead.

The energy rolled in his grip, as he felt the opportunity come to a head. He had to choose. Once she returned across the bridge, it would be more in her hands. He had his plans and doors, but there was no guarantee he would be able to use them. This was his last chance to take care of the problem she presented.

_And then what?_ He asked himself. Leave her here to slowly starve? Or else he would have to bring her food. Could he assume she couldn't get across? The river was deep and very fast here, but there might be a way. She would certainly risk a lot to escape.

And if she died, if he killed her, if he added another name to his list, and he became more empty than he was before? For what, to keep the throne? If that was what he wanted, he should've killed Odin first. Odin was the one he hated, and Odin was the one who would eventually rouse and take it all back.

When she stood up to return, he clenched his hand, dispersing the energy again. Whatever happened next, he wouldn't do that. He inhaled a deep breath, feeling a bit freer and stronger for making the decision.

Watching her cross back across the bridge, he felt a little dizzy. He had no idea what she was going to do now. Usually he could predict people, but right now he was in freefall. It was exhilarating.

He called to her, "So you've seen that he's still alive. He might even wake up to tell you all about our thrilling discussion on the finer points of hypocrisy."

"And I see you didn't murder me after all," she answered lightly, but the amusement fell away as she approached. "I'm glad to see you're still you, Loki," she said, voice softening as she looked up at him. "Used to be I would never dream you would think of such a thing."

His lips tried to shape words that he couldn't find a voice for, feeling her words like sudden blows, especially when he _had_ thought of it. He hadn't done it, but he'd thought about it.

_When did I become this monster? When did death start becoming a reasonable solution to anything? When did I let the jests become real? When did the darkness grab such a hold on me?_

His eyes held hers for a moment and he knew she was reading all those thoughts, all that secret weakness, all that dark and evil and shame that sat in his heart. He thought she would turn away, or look appalled, or maybe take out her knife and end this threat forever.

But instead she looked sad. "Loki…"

Her pity threatened to crack what few defenses he had left, and he turned sharply from her. "You have the next move, I believe. Make it amusing so I won't feel I've completely wasted my time."

"No, stop," she said, catching his wrist and tugging on it to turn him back. "Don't retreat, don't give in. It's easier to push everyone away - I know that because I did it, too. Rather than admit to weakness, you don't care and you're cruel. But that's not who you are, not the Loki I remember when we were young. That boy cared about everything."

He shook his head, keeping his gaze fixed on the island where Odin lay. "That's where you're wrong," he murmured. "That boy was lost a long time ago, and what remained of him died in the abyss."

She made a distressed sound. "No, he didn't," she insisted, and laid a hand on his cheek to force him to look at her. "You're right here. Right here, Loki."

He wanted to believe that, the same way he had wanted to believe Frigga when she had said much the same, but he couldn't. "You see a shadow," he murmured. "A memory. But you don't know…"

"Know what?" she prompted.

He wanted to tell her. The truth sat on his tongue, the taste foul, and he almost spat it out so finally someone would know, but in the end, he swallowed it back down. Instead he gave her a bitter smile and a different truth. "He turned into the enemy."

He set Gungnir down and turned toward the island, holding out his hand. It was so easy - the power flowed for this, despite his exhaustion - body and mind and spirit so tragically perfectly aligned for ice. From the moisture in the room, a lattice of ice formed like a huge snowflake had fallen above the king to make a perfect geodesic dome above his body, fragile and gleaming as if with a pale light of its own.

Then, knowing the final illusion had fallen away from his appearance, he faced Sif again, steeling himself for the revulsion and hatred.

She was surprised, but she returned his look calmly. "The queen told me. After you fell. She wanted me to understand why that sudden madness seized you." Her gaze was steady and he could see not a hint of disgust, though he knew she had to be covering it. "It's not as different as I imagined it to be."

"Different enough." With a thought, he restored his normal appearance, including leather tunic and boots and the shorter fighting coat - though the effort cost him. "So you know."

She nodded once. "I know."

"And you will never allow a Frost Giant to continue to sit on the throne of Asgard. So, tell me, what happens next, Sif?" He didn't wait for the answer to cast for a pair of doubles to distract her when this fell into the inevitable conflict, but he had to let one go when the piercing pain in his head made him breathless and the strain was too much. He had burned his reserves to stave off sleep since Midgard, and it was all catching up to him at the worst possible time.

"I don't know," she admitted. "I know the Allfather would want you returned to the cell. But I also know Thor promised you your freedom if you helped him save Jane Foster, which you did, so I should let you go. The queen would want me to hold out hope for you, because she never lost her belief you would come home."

That cut him, and he had to shut his eyes. He remembered that final look in Frigga's eyes, sorrow and pity and love, too, in spite of everything. She'd understood him all too well, when he'd understood so little.

"Yet none of them are here," Sif murmured. "And so," she inhaled a deep strengthening breath, and asked, "I will ask the king of Asgard what to do. Tell me, my liege, what do I do with Loki?"

The words caught him by surprise, and he opened his eyes to stare at her, to see if she were mocking him, but her expression seemed too earnest for that.

He blinked and finally forced out a question. "Are you mad?"

She laughed softly. "Perhaps, but who else am I to ask, Loki?"

"You know my answer." He folded his arms, not sure what she thought she was doing with this.

"Do I?" she challenged and it made him hesitate. "What does Loki the King say?"

Frustrated, still unsure what her intention was, he said, "That you're a fool to even ask the question. I will not go back in a cell, that I swear. You'll have to kill me."

"That's not an answer. Think it through, give me reasons, be the king," she urged, "Don't be him," she gestured to Odin, "not what he would want, but what you, as the king, think is the right thing to do."

He stalked away from her, laughing in disbelief that she would even ask the question. "And you think I have the least idea of the _right_ thing to do? Me?"

"Yet you wanted so badly to be king. Was that merely for the title of it?" she retorted. "To have more servants than you did as prince? To possess empty riches and a big chair? There's more to it than that, and you have always known it. You said you'd be a better king than Thor; prove it."

He scrubbed both hands back through his hair. His heart seemed to be too large in his chest, catching his breath, and he held his head for a moment as the pain pulsed between his temples.

"You've been the king, Loki. You've been making decisions that affect all of Asgard. Make this one," she insisted.

He felt cornered by her words. The urge to yell at her or rip this all to shreds rose up within, that self-destructive impulse that wanted to ruin things for himself before others let him down. "What do you want from me?" he demanded furiously. "I show you what makes it impossible and still you want to play this game?"

She was uncowed by his flash of temper and repeated, "Be the king."

"Fine." He stopped pacing and stared at Odin's body beneath the ice pavilion for a long time. They all thought he didn't know what the truth was, that he lied to himself most of all, but he knew. If the truth was what she wanted, then that was what she would get.

His voice emerged in an impersonal, flat tone of condemnation. "Loki did terrible things, without remorse, without hope of redemption. He will likely do them again, because he's weak and broken, and the only ones who ever had any faith in him are dead. No one remains to pull him back when he falls again." His breath was ragged as he inhaled, and his lips were dry and cold as he continued, more softly, "But… there is no one else to be king. If I'm not Odin, there is no clear line of succession. Asgard will be rent in confusion at best, civil war at worst, and the other Realms will seek their chance and pull away. We cannot afford that when we're already weakened and enemies are on the horizon. It is self-serving but also true, that I should continue my role. Because there's no one else."

He heard himself, and the smile was bitter. He wished he was saying it to toy with her, but he meant it. All his deceptions had trapped him in this box where the truth was the last weapon he had.

A heavy silence fell, smothering him with the weight of it, as he waited to hear what she would say. Finally he got impatient and turned his head to see her face. She caught his glance and smiled. "Was that so difficult?" she asked, quietly. "I knew as much upstairs. I only had to know you could do it."

He pressed his lips together, dismayed that she agreed. He thought she'd be outraged at his claim that the throne ought to stay with him. "It's a fool's choice."

"Only if you fail."

He glanced at Gungnir where it still lay on the floor. He hadn't expected to pick it up again and here she was handing it to him, even knowing what he was. "A slender reed to place the weight of so much," he murmured.

"Slender, perhaps, but strong." She paced closer to him. "So clear about what the Realm needs, and yet so muddled about yourself. You're wrong there's no left. There's me. I lost my faith for a little while, but I found it again. I believe you can be king. That you _are_ king. You've turned away from the dark path you were on, and you can be a good regent and take care of the Realm." Her smile widened, turned warmer with understanding as she told him, "I can help, now I know it's you. Someday everyone else will, too. Hold fast, and they'll see who you can be, Loki. Be patient with them and yourself." Her hand returned to his face. It felt strange, this gentle touch of her warm fingers on his chill skin. "I hope you'll come to understand that you're wrong about the rest, too. Not weak, _reforged_. And never without hope."

All his words failed him, as he looked into her eyes. His fingers found a lock of her hair, loose in front of her shoulder, the touch of it soft and a reminder of that boy he'd been when a clumsy spell had gone wrong. Back when the days had been long and bright, in the springtime of youth. Before life settled into the troubled heat of summer, the gathering chill of autumn, and the final long fall into the winter, bitter and unforgiving.

Yet here, perhaps, could there be hope of spring to come again?

He never knew if he asked the question aloud, or she saw it on his face, but she whispered, "Yes." Her hand angled him down and his lips found hers. It had been so long, yet the years washed away as if none had passed at all, and their mouths joined, quick and certain. He seized her around the waist, as her hands held his face and her fingers pushed into his hair.

Her lithe strength fit against him as if made for it, as his hands searched out her skin, while he kissed her, deep and needful for her mouth. She tasted of spring, of light and heat, warming the cold that had settled inside.

She mumbled his name against his lips, her fingers tangled in his hair. He would have kissed her forever, if not for the sharp pain in his temples and sudden burning down his spine that made him gasp.

He stumbled back from her. "Loki?" she asked in alarm, her hands seizing his shoulders as he swayed.

Her image blurred, and he blinked, trying to bring her back in focus. "Sorry," he said. "I … seem to be … unwell."

The floor tilted as his knees gave way. "Loki!" Her arms went around him, and she eased him to the ground, holding him back against her chest. "What's wrong?" she demanded. "Do you need a healer?"

Her face blurred again above him. "No, no healer. I told you I spent it all. Turning every stone and breaking wards all across the Nine…" His voice grew thready and it was hard to remember what he was saying. "He can't be dead." First he had to rest. His body was shutting down in desperate need to recover. But the thought of sleep was a bolt of pure terror right in his chest and he tried to sit up, struggling against her arm. "No … not sleep. Stay awake…"

"It's all right," she smoothed his hair back from his forehead. "You need rest."

"No dreams," he told her urgently. "I can't - I don't want - "

"Shush. They're just dreams. Not real."

"They are," he insisted. They were real, all of it was real. The last time he'd slept, on Midgard, he had nearly crashed the airplane in reaction to the nightmare. He hadn't wanted to feel that, not ever again.

"I'm here," she reminded him. "It's safe to sleep, Loki. I promise. Just let go."

It was true, Sif was here. If there was anyplace safer, he didn't know it. He closed his eyes, and she murmured, "That's right. Let it go. We're stronger than the mortals, Loki, but we need rest, too."

Lured by the calm peacefulness of her voice, he inhaled the scent of her and let out the breath slowly, as the darkness closed in.

* * *

tbc


	3. Chapter 3

His head tilted against her and his fingers went limp, and she knew he'd fallen asleep. Carefully she pulled out from under him and laid him on the stone, frowning when he didn't stir.

What had that been about? He hadn't been reluctant to sleep; he'd been _afraid_. But he hadn't been afraid of her or what she might do, of his dreams. And though some people taunted Loki as a coward, she had rarely seen him afraid of anything, entering the fray with nothing more than a couple of daggers and a handful of illusions. What could possibly terrify him so much that he was afraid to sleep and live it again?

It occurred to her that this was her chance to put him back in the cell. She'd get no better one. Once he was rested, he'd be nearly impossible to stop, especially without Thor to help.

Unsettled, she glanced up at the king, wishing he would wake, and at Loki again, nearly as deeply asleep on the floor.

But the Odinsleep persisted, and she had to wonder if this was part of his plan. They had always said the ways of the king were impenetrable, and maybe this was part of it. Maybe he intended to give Loki a chance to claw his way back to who he'd been.

_That boy died in the abyss_, Loki's voice echoed in her memory, and yet that was, like everything with Loki, a partial truth. She remembered his face - Frost Giant blue skin and eyes that should have gleamed like fire, but instead had seemed dim and hesitant, his tense body braced for hatred and disgust.

_And how would you have felt,_ she asked herself, t_o discover you shared blood with those beasts? Would you react with calm acceptance or lash out at everything that hurt you in a fury?_

She was no more a creature of calm acceptance than he was - he only pretended to calm, simmering until it erupted in rage.

In his exhaustion and pervasive grief, he'd shown her the truth, unable to wear the mask any more. Yet he'd been king so well no one had suspected Odin was anything but grieving, while doing his best to strengthen the Realm after their terrible losses. He'd begun to bring change, but nothing she had believed harmful or even disagreed with, once she'd considered. The only act of Odin's that seemed questionable in hindsight was Loki's insistence on fixing the throne quickly, but even that, she was not certain Odin wouldn't have ordered the same.

Now that she knew the truth, she could keep watch and make certain he remained a thoughtful king. And the fact was that she probably could depend on him long enough to find Thor or for Odin to wake; and after that, everything would change regardless.

She looked down at his face again, still and pale as ice and death, and knew her choice had been made already.

So here he was, the criminal, traitor and mad prince, passed out on the floor, as weak and helpless as a new pup, and she was going to walk right upstairs and wait for him to wake up and take back the throne he'd stolen.

"We're all a little mad," she murmured. But she remembered the interrupted kiss, and she smiled. A little madness might keep Loki on the right path this time, in a reminder that he was not alone.

Upstairs, she carefully shut the door to prevent anyone from entering and in the hall outside the throne room, fended off those seeking the king with an apology, that he was busy but would emerge soon.

Two hours later, she heard that the king had convened the war council. She didn't believe it at first, certain he'd have slept longer. But inside the chamber, Odin was there. Odin's face looked hale again, but she knew that meant nothing with the truth hidden behind that mask. His greeting was utterly polite. "Lady Sif." He gestured her to take her place.

In the council, she was reminded of Loki's complaint that they whined about obvious and necessary defensive measures, when in fact, that was exactly what Freyr did, complaining that another weapons emplacement was unnecessary on the east side.

Odin fixed a glowering eye at Freyr. "Did you learn nothing from Malekith's attack?" he demanded in an irritated growl. "We do not have the aether, but we have the tesseract and the Infinity Gauntlet and treasures beyond those. I will not have us sit as untended bait again."

Sif volunteered, "I will see it done, my king." Actually she was going to have Fandral sweet talk the owner into allowing the roof to be used, and if that failed, then maybe her sword. Because it was foolishness to have no platform in that sector at all.

Odin inclined his head in brief thanks to her, and moved on with the next issue of defending the Observatory.

The council ended, and she waited outside in the corridor for him to emerge from giving instruction to Tyr. When he saw her, he came to meet her, his stride long and sure. He gave her a private smile. She nodded to him, mostly to hide her own smile. This sharing secrets was giving her a thrill already; no wonder Loki found secrets so appealing. "My king. May I say, I expected you to rest longer."

"I find it hard to rest alone," he answered. Anyone else might have taken that to be a reference to Frigga, but when her eyes lifted to meet his, she knew he meant Sif herself.

_Oh, now that I know the secret, you can't resist the game, can you_? She valiantly banished the smile that threatened, knowing she couldn't draw suspicion on him either. "You have the Realm's sympathies, and most assuredly mine."

"Your strong heart does you great credit, my lady," he answered, and when she glanced at his face, she found he seemed to mean the words, and was not mocking her. "Alas I have not found Thor yet. I'm sure that would ease everyone, yourself probably not least of all."

She frowned trying to unpick that but Loki shared with Odin a tendency to the cryptic and convoluted, though he'd never admit that was where it had come from. "No more than you, my king."

"No?" Odin raised his brows in faint surprise. "Perhaps not more, but surely you… desire him to return."

She glanced at him, wondering what he was after. Loki, of all people, should know she'd never considered Thor as more than a friend and implying she wanted to bed him was offensive. Still, she couldn't smack the king, so she answered with stiff formality, "For your sake, my king, I hope he returns swiftly and unharmed. For my own, I wish only to have my friend back. We have all had too much of grief, of late."

His shoulders relaxed and his smile was too pleased in her direction, like he had won something. She wanted to roll her eyes.

"Have you eaten, my lady?" he asked her. "I find myself famished after my sojourn on magical paths and far less magical council chambers. I would ask your company."

Her eyes flew to his. He was going to blow the secret if he kept doing this so obviously. Yet she could scarcely refuse the king, and ended up in his chambers.

Some small effort had been made to put it in order while he'd been gone but he didn't seem to notice, ordering everyone else out of the suite once food had been delivered to his satisfaction.

Then he held Gungnir, and tapped the spear on the ground sending out a wave in a sphere to touch the walls, floor, and ceiling. Only when that was done did he relinquish the illusion and allow himself a long breath of relief, dropping into the heavy cushioned chair beside the window, ignoring the food.

"You didn't rest long enough," she observed.

His eyes sought the sky behind her and lifted his shoulders in a small shrug. "As long as I could."

"Dreams?" she asked softly.

He ignored the question. "The king can't disappear too often or too long."

She inspected the platters of food brought in for the king and Sif to eat for luncheon, and plucked some grapes. "You can't ask me to do this again, Loki," she murmured. "They'll grow suspicious."

His head turned toward her, smile toying at his lips. "Suspicious that Odin and Sif are having a torrid affair?"

"Disrespecting your mother," she reminded him gently, but regretted it when he went still. He turned his face back to the window, but not before she'd glimpsed the devastation in his eyes and the flutter in his throat.

She moved to the back of his chair and gripped his shoulders. "I'm sorry," she murmured. Her fingers dug into the muscle of his shoulders and neck, trying to work out the stiffness and the knots of stress and lingering fatigue. "But we have to be careful. I know it must be quite a relief to share the secret with me, but if this masquerade is to hold, you need to be the king, not Loki pretending to be the king."

He leaned back and tilted his head, relaxing in her ministrations enough to close his eyes. "Did you mean it?" he asked. "About Thor?"

Her hands left his shoulders and slid down his chest. When he'd let go of the Odin illusion, his actual clothing of long black shimmery tunic belted over breeches, had appeared. The tunic was soft to the touch, trimmed in emerald at the neck and wrists, but otherwise plain and thin enough she could feel his collarbones, the muscle of his chest, and ribs below that, lean and lithe. "Don't tell me you buy into that rumor, too," she murmured. "That all I want in life is to marry him and bear little warrior babes."

"Well, you rushed off to Midgard to fetch him," he pointed out. He didn't move away from her touch. "That suggested a certain… attachment."

"I thought the Realm was in danger. I knew there was something wrong with you. I misunderstood the cause, but I wasn't wrong. You were … unwell," she finished diplomatically. To her relief, he didn't launch into a temper, staying calm beneath her caresses, as though he needed to absorb her touch more than he needed to be angry.

"There is some strange cosmic justice that I was unmade by the truth," he murmured. "Don't you think?"

"Troubled," she corrected. "Not unmade."

He waved one hand. "Madness, then. I know what it was, Sif. It lingers," he murmured, "and stirs when I think of it. Like some ravenous beast inside my skin." His fingers tightened on the arms of the chair, knuckles turning bone-white. She smoothed his arms all the way to his hands, leaning against the back, her head beside his.

"Then don't think of it," she urged, caressing the back of his hands until the clutch eased. "You're Loki of Asgard, son of Frigga; whatever your feelings toward the Allfather and Thor and your blood, I know you still hold to her. She always loved you, and she watches over you still. Make that your truth, and let it give you strength. You can be a great king, if you hold on, Loki."

She could feel him tense beneath her, as he considered her words. Then he chuckled, his eyes still closed. "When I take the throne by right, you run to give it to someone else, yet when I actually do steal it, you help me keep it."

"I want what's best for the Realm," she reminded him. "That happens to be you, right now."

His hands turned over and seized hers, and he turned his head to meet her eyes. "You want me?" he asked teasing, and the purr of his voice seemed to crawl inside her as a seething current and making her aware of her skin especially where his fingers touched her.

"As king."

"No, no, lady, I heard it quite distinctly, you shall not wriggle free of that declaration." He tugged her hands, putting them on his chest. She made a token effort of resistance, but when she didn't pull free, his smile widened to a grin. "You want me, because that's what's best for the Realm. I need to be relaxed, and well-rested, and sated, and content," between each word his lips found her skin - first her neck which he could reach easily, her jaw, and then her lips as she turned her head.

Fed up with the awkward position, she swung a leg and sat across his lap, pinning him to the chair and looking into his face. "Oh, is that so?" she teased. "And what of me?"

"Have I ever given cause to complain?" he countered, smirking, as his long fingers traced down her sides to her hips and legs.

"Only that you did not do it enough," she returned and melded his lips with hers again, eagerly.

His hand undid her hair clasp, and he slid his fingers through the weight of her hair unbound as it fell loose past her shoulders. "Ah, I have missed this," he murmured.

She didn't bother speaking her agreement, letting hands and mouth speak for her. She pulled his tunic off to put her hands on his skin, the lean lines of muscle and bone of agility and grace that had always called to her more than the more obvious strength of his brother. Certainly his touch was skilled. Those magician fingers knew exactly where to caress and which nerve to stimulate, until she was quivering and that with only half her clothes off.

"This is so very wrong. And terrible of us," she whispered, as he kissed her bare shoulder.

"Excellent. I have a certain reputation to uphold, after all," he murmured, fingers not faltering in their eager exploration beneath her pants.

"It better be the Silvertongue reputation," she warned playfully, as he pressed her against the couch. The mischievous grin looked pulled right from their days of youth again, when they'd explored each other in secret. Sharing his impersonation of the king was not their first secret, though it was certainly the most dangerous.

"Well you should know." His raven head dipped between her legs, and she was soon biting her lip to hold in reckless cries as the pleasure shuddered through her. But when he came up again, smug with his own ability to unmake her, she pushed him on his back to pull the needy moans from him in turn.

After, draped across his chest, his arm around her back, she murmured, "It was always you. Even when I didn't want it to be, even when I lied to myself about it, it was always you."

His hand paused in its soft caress of her hair and he pressed a kiss to her head. "I fought it no less than you," he admitted. "For petty reasons. And I'm sorry it won't last."

She frowned into his face. "Why won't it last?"

He gave her a look as if she was being foolish. "Because it can't."

"Well, not exactly this, I know, but once you find Thor, and bring him home; you can come home, too. We don't have to sneak around-"

He laid a finger on her lips. "Sif. That's fine until the Allfather awakens. Then it ends. Do you think he'll be as understanding about what I'm doing as you are? He's going to want me back in the cell, if not worse. He already thinks I'm lost to evil; he's not going to listen to my explanations of _treason_."

"No, we'll make him listen."

He let out a sigh. "Sif, he's going to think I suborned you with magic and not listen to a word you say. And then have me executed."

She sat up and looked down at him in dismay. "No. How can you believe-"

"He said he held back before only because Mother begged for my life. She's gone; Thor's gone - who else would persuade him to stay his hand now?"

She shook her head, wanting to argue, but she had heard the king as well. She had thought it more of a threat, not something Odin would actually have done, but she couldn't blame Loki for believing it. "If he dares do something so wrong, he'll have to kill me, too. We're not traitors, we're doing what's right for the Realm."

He reached up to comb his fingers down the length of her hair and then caressed her cheek. "Brave Sif. I won't let you defend me."

She made herself smile, leaning over him again. "How would you stop me?" she challenged. "Confess falsely that you controlled my mind? Put me under some spell? Take all the blame to yourself?" He didn't have to answer, because she knew that was exactly his plan.

He shook his head once in denial. "The blood on my scales runs too deep already, and I will not shed yours in defense of the indefensible." She opened her mouth to object, but he slipped a finger over her lips. "No. This will not endure beyond his waking. Do not dream of things that will never be."

She nipped at his finger and lifted her head away. "Then we cannot dream at all. We do this to save our dreams, Loki."

"There is nothing in mine I would save." He pushed himself out from under her. "I do this because there's no one else, but I won't deceive myself it buys his forgiveness. Especially not this." He waved a hand, meaning them together on the sofa of the Allfather's sitting room.

She let him rise, realizing that he had a point, even if she wanted to argue against his despondency. Sighing, she straightened and began gathering her clothes. "I suppose I have to let the king get back to his duty."

He stole a kiss. "Even if the king would much rather spend the afternoon, with you, yes."

"This new-found air of responsibility is strange," she regarded him and then nodded. "But I think I like it."

"At least one of us does," he muttered, and she had to chuckle.


	4. Chapter 4

**NOTE: **Thanks, all! I'm glad people are enjoying the story. Here's part 4 - as everyone finds out what's happened to Thor.

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* * *

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Two days later found the king in formal audience, as a cloaked stranger arrived at the Observatory, claiming to be a messenger to the king.

He was human, or one of the human-like mortals, Sif thought, watching as he walked up the long aisle toward the great throne. Yet he glanced at the lingering damage with a faint smirk, unimpressed by the rest of the hall or the throne.

It set Sif's teeth on edge and she sidled toward the middle with one hand at her back on the hilt of her dagger. Loki, in the guise of Odin, sat in the throne, with Gungnir in one hand. He was watching the messenger with a close wariness, but gestured the stranger to approach.

"You come to the presence of Odin All-Father, King of Asgard, Master of the Nine Realms," Fandral announced. "Speak your name and business, visitor."

"My master bids me give you a gift, great king of Asgard," said the messenger, bowing and holding out a small box.

Sif saw it and her heart suddenly felt cold. The messenger had done nothing wrong, but still, she didn't like it. She could see the king's hand on Gungnir was tight. Loki knew something was wrong as well.

The messenger's eyes were dead, she realized - blue in color, but too bright and flat like a corpse, not a person. Her hands tightened, not liking this at all.

Hogun took the wooden box, about the size that would hold a dagger, as the messenger bowed again.

"Open it," Odin commanded Hogun, who flipped open the lid and then his eyes widened in shock and horror. Which was a reaction akin to screaming for Hogun. He gathered himself and, in a very calm voice, said, "It appears to be Thor's hair shorn and plaited, my liege."

The shock ran through the gathering, and Odin stared at the messenger. A very un-Odin-like dangerous smile flickered on his lips. "You dare," he murmured, silencing the shocked whispers. "You dare to bring this to me in my own hall. To announce that you have Thor captive and held hostage."

The messenger's smile was suddenly gleaming and broad, utterly confident. "You will bring the betrayer Loki and the tesseract to my master, and Thor goes free."

Sif's gaze swung to Loki, shocked. Odin would have gone into a rage, but Loki was like ice, glaring down at the messenger, with the stillness of a viper about to strike. "And if I refuse?" Odin asked.

"My master breaks him and tames him to hand, and my master takes what he wants from the ashes of this place and the corpses of your people."

"Who?" Volstagg demanded. "What foul creature holds our prince captive?"

"The king knows," the messenger taunted with a sly smile up at him. "He remembers. Say it, king of Asgard, Allfather."

Odin rose to his feet and leveled Gungnir at him. "Your master knows my answer." A bolt of fire leaped from Gungnir and slammed into the messenger, throwing him back to the stone. The audience gasped at the sudden violence and that the king had killed a messenger. The king looked without remorse or worry on the body, where it sprawled. Sif was unnerved to see the messenger still grinned his triumph, even in death. "Remove this foulness," he ordered the Einharjar sharply, and four jumped to do his bidding.

"My king? Who is our enemy?" Fandral asked.

Odin pressed his lips together, looking ill, before he rallied and answered, "Thanos. Thanos the Eternal has Thor."

The dismay that traveled the hall was a whisper and a feeling of horror. Everyone had heard of Thanos the Eternal; everyone knew that the might of Asgard had barely held him off millennia ago. He had not been heard of since.

But Sif knew something else. Loki had suspected this, all along. This was the enemy he had been preparing them to fight from the moment he'd taken Odin's place.

"What do we do?" Fandral asked.

"Prepare for war," Loki answered shortly. "We cannot give him what he wants. If he takes possession of the tesseract or the Gauntlet with it, no force in the Nine Realms will unseat him from dominion. Ever."

He spun Gungnir with a flourish that was more Loki than Odin, and walked down the steps to meet Hogun. He held out his hand for the box.

Hogun's face was impassive, but he didn't immediately hand it over, and his voice was soft and hesitant, "Are you… sure, my king?"

"Give it to me, Hogun. I … must be sure it was taken from him living."

Sif gasped, having not thought the hair might have been taken from his corpse.

Hogun surrendered it, and Loki took it in his free hand with white-knuckled grip. Hogun bowed deeply, as did everyone else, including Sif, as the king made his way to the side door.

Sif wanted to say something comforting to him as he passed, but feared she might address Loki instead, so held her silence. She would go to him later, when all eyes weren't on them.

* * *

Sif found him down in the cavern where Odin lay, pacing the floor parallel to the river's course.

"He will not wake," Loki said, as soon as she crossed the threshold. "I tried to force him to come back," he added with a sideways flicker of his gaze at her, as if to make sure she wouldn't be angry at the admission, "but not even for this news does he stir." He stopped and addressed Odin, "Curse you, old man, whenever I need you, you're never there."

"So it was Thor's? And he's a prisoner or dead?" She asked the question steadily.

"Prisoner," Loki answered. "I don't know how Thanos managed it. But he did. The aether perhaps."

For anyone to take Thor down, so quietly that Heimdall had seen nothing, was a fearsome foe. She frowned at Loki. "You knew Thanos had returned."

"I did. Though I didn't know he had anything to do with Thor until today."

"But you told no one, not even me."

"Would you have believed me?" he countered. "Would it not have sounded like a lie I concocted to keep my masquerade? 'Thanos Returns'," he said with a grand gesture and then snorted. "It sounds like a saga."

Admittedly she might have doubted, but not after the emissary and his strange dead eyes and Thor's hair in a box. "But it's true."

He chuckled drily. "Oh, yes."

"You've known since you came back from Midgard. You could have warned the king."

His lips twisted in a rueful, almost smile and his gaze went to Odin. "And he would have wanted to know how I know, and I'll be damned before I speak of that, to him."

"Why?"

"Because he didn't ask," Loki bit off, bitterly. "Not one question about what happened after I fell. Or where the scepter came from."

"Came from?" she repeated, confused. "The mind-control scepter that you wielded on Midgard. You didn't create it?"

"No. And if Odin couldn't care enough to ask, I was certainly not going to humiliate myself further by telling him anything."

"Oh, ancestors," she breathed, as all the pieces fell together. "_Thanos_ gave it to you. That's why you knew he returned."

He nodded once, but didn't look at her.

She knew that wasn't all, because she remembered his terror of dreaming. "What did he do to you?"

"Nothing," Loki snapped and stalked away, arms folded to watch the rushing water.

She shook her head once, not believing him for a moment. Not after what that emissary had said about breaking Thor. "The scepter forced you to carry out the attack on Midgard, didn't it?"

"No," he disagreed. "It was nothing so … simple."

But it was something. She pursued him across the stone, standing near enough he could feel her, but not so close he would feel trapped. "Talk to me," she murmured. "Please, tell me. There is some horror you're holding in, Loki; it disturbs your rest, and you need to set it free before it destroys you." She set a hand on his upper arm to let him know she was there. "What did Thanos do?"

He said nothing, but the silence told her he was going to answer, so she waited.

"When I was on Midgard, I believed I had met only the head of the Chitauri, and we had agreed that in return for the army, I would give him the tesseract once I had acquired it." He held out his palm and conjured a shadow image of the tesseract to look in it. "A strange bargain, is it not? I am not such a fool to _give_ an alien race the means to subjugate me, yet in my thoughts it seemed a fair bargain. My dreams were dark, but I could not remember them clearly, only shadows of pain and fear. I thought I was dreaming of my fall."

She bit her lip so she would hold her silence. She had asked Frigga once if she thought Loki had suffered in his fall from the Bifrost, and the queen had tried to reassure her that of course he had not, but all the while her eyes had held the truth was something far worse.

Loki paid no attention, continuing the story. "But, after the green monstrosity's struck me, I remembered. Thanos was the one to fish me from the void. Imagine how lucky he was - finding the mad, lost son of his enemy, Odin Allfather, keeper of the Infinity Gauntlet, at the very moment the tesseract shone a beacon across the universe. I was incoherent, but still, I knew who he was, and I refused to kneel. But he suffers no equals." He paused, eyes seeing only the past.

His voice remained a strange, calm tone, as if relating a dull story rather than something so horrible that it took her a moment to fully comprehend what he was telling her. "He used the scepter to break my immortality, like cracking an egg. He could do as he liked - bring me to death, and use the scepter to revive me. Pain and death, again and again, until nothing else existed." His voice faltered and grew soft, and his hands clenched to fists. "I needed it to stop. Just stop. For a little while. And in that crack, he reached inside... He got what he wanted. Without Banner, I probably would still serve Thanos. I was … so very weak," he whispered and shut his eyes, in shame.

"Loki…" she tried to embrace him, to offer some sort of comfort, but he jerked away and turned his back to her. "No, don't blame yourself."

"You wouldn't give in. Or be such a coward."

"Oh, no, no, you mustn't think that-" she protested.

"Because it's true?" he retorted bitterly, and she could sense the distance he was putting between them, the deep chasm he was creating all around himself.

"No." But words would fail her, she knew that much. He would twist them against her, to take the wrong meaning from them, to prove his mistaken beliefs. Only action would serve. She leaped that metaphorical chasm, refusing to let him put her on the wrong side, and slipped her arms around him and refused to let go when he flinched, trying to get away. "No," she repeated into his shoulder and neck and the black hair tickling her nose. "Because I've never had some evil, deathless creature torture me like that. But you did, and you survived." Her fingers touched his cheek, sliding down the sharpness of cheekbones and jaw, and then to his lips. He closed his eyes and let her touch him. "Somehow, I don't know how, you survived. That's not weakness, that's strength. He pushed you to a dark place of pain and hate, but you fought your way free, Loki. You've come back." Her fingertips brushed his eyelids. "Don't you see that?" she whispered. "You've come back. You can save us."

He chuckled once, pained and humorless. "I can't even save Thor."

"I believe you can. And I know you're going to try."

He flung his arms around her, in a desperate embrace body to body and he put his face in her hair. "Why don't you hate me?" he whispered.

She didn't think she was meant to hear that, but she answered anyway, fingers combing though his hair. "Because I remember a dark-haired boy who cut my hair and then blackened it trying to make it right again. And for the flowers you left at my door in secret, thinking you were so stealthy. And that time you read to me tales of valorous deeds when I was healing, and made sure I knew exactly how ridiculous they were. And because I remember your face when Odin bestowed Mjolnir on Thor and gave you nothing." Her hand smoothed down the treacherous curls when he stiffened at the reminder, until he relaxed again. "I know your heart is a tender, battered thing, and when I saw a glimmer of that light again, I had to throw myself at the walls to tear them down."

"Such poetry from the lady of war," he teased, but his voice turned ragged, unable to hold to the levity. His lips found her hair and her neck beneath her ear, kissing her softly with reverence. His embrace relaxed, holding her with less desperation, as if he was finally pushing aside aside the doubts and the pain and letting himself believe. He rested his head against hers and caressed her back with his hand.

"I couldn't do this without you," he murmured. "I don't know how I thought I could."

"We'll fight our way through, Loki. We'll rescue Thor and save Asgard."

"But then what shall we do tomorrow?" he joked, and it was weary, but she still laughed.

She tightened her arms. "That's why - because you make me laugh even in desperate times." Then looking to his eyes somberly, she touched his forehead. "Now, you need to put this brain to work, using all your cleverness, to find us a plan to rescue Thor."

He shoved away from her, his look briefly stunned by her demand. "From Thanos? With what? You and me?"

"With the entire Einharjar, if necessary."

He considered and shook his head. "No, stealth is our only option. If I open a gate for an army he'll see us coming. We can battle Chitauri, but we can't confront Thanos directly."

She scoffed. "He can't be that tough. You and me, together. We'll take him."

He smiled, a brief but bright expression of affection that warmed her a surprising amount, before it faded for a different intensity. "Sif, he is that tough. You can't kill him. And I don't mean 'can't' as 'it's difficult and dangerous,' I mean 'not able to.' I have read the lore, I know what he was and what he became, and there is no blade in existence that will end him; Even your sword will shatter on his skin, and I think Mjolnir would only push him back, not hurt him."

She felt cold then, as the strength of their foe became clear. "Is there nothing that will destroy him?" she asked.

His gaze went to Odin's slumbering form. "The Allfather used the tesseract to imprison him. I should be able to do the same, and possibly unmake him as my skills are greater. But that's a risk, bringing the tesseract within his reach and the possibility my will is still not entirely my own."

She touched his arm. "You think he-"

He didn't let her finish. "I don't know. But I must consider it." He frowned, eyes distant, as his mind turned over possibilities. "At least I know where they must be."

"Then we could sneak in," she said. "Rescue Thor before Thanos even knows we're there. Be clever and tricky." She grinned at him. "Do what you do best."

"Yes," he agreed slowly. "I should. This will take some thought." He looked at Gungnir where it was leaning against the wall and with a crook of his fingers, he called it back to his hand. "I need to go above and hold audience. Settle that idiot land dispute before someone draws blood."

She shook her head at him. "Never would I have thought Loki to be _interested_ in land disputes."

"Did I claim I was interested?" he retorted, lifting his chin as if he were offended by the accusation. "It's the dullest thing imaginable. But it has lingered for years and I will see it finished."

"Oh, right, you're not interested at all," she mocked. "Didn't you search the archive for the original grant yesterday yourself?"

"I knew where it was; it was easier to find it myself," he muttered and turned away. "My true interest is to watch their faces as I crush their petty disagreement to powder."

While she had no doubt that was part of it, she still had to shake her head at him. "You and your love of moldy old books."

"You and your love of pointy metal things," he retorted in the same tone.

She scoffed. "As if you don't have at least three on you right now, including this one," She touched Gungnir. "Come, my king, I want to watch you demolish these fools with your wit."

He wrapped an arm around her tightly and with a flash of light and a strange pulling sensation, they were back in the king's chambers. She was suddenly holding Odin and shoved away so they wouldn't be caught like that.

Loki snickered. "We're alone."

"Not in that face," she insisted, crinkling her nose. "No offense to your father, but… I like yours better."

"I should hope so." His tone made her chuckle again, and they headed for the door.

Her steps paused on the way, as the true darkness of what they faced hit her. "Loki?" He turned around to look at her. "Do you think he's hurting Thor as he hurt you?"

"I think we would be foolish to assume he is not," Loki answered with a carefully level voice.

"And we'll rescue him, you promise?"

He shifted back to his own face and returned to look into her eyes with an intensity of truth that was shocking. She was so used to seeing the jest or the lie or the uncertainty, that something so bare and unfettered made her uneasy. "I give you my vow that I will do everything I can to free him and see Thor safely home, Sif. I will not leave him there."

"Nor will I," she answered. "Not for anything."

He nodded. "No, of course not." He turned away again. "But I think rushing off will get us all killed, or worse. I need to search the lore and make a plan."

She itched to move, but he was right. Attacking a villain of Thanos' class was not something to do recklessly. "Wise of you."

"You needn't sound so surprised," he retorted. "I'm not the reckless one."

She rolled her eyes and wondered how he could say that with a straight face. At least he had put aside the impetuous decisions and dramatic gestures for more responsible rule.

She didn't follow him to the great hall, but instead went to make her own preparations.

* * *

Cloaked from prying eyes, Loki made his way carefully across the stone to the promontory. Here he could put his back to the city and pretend it didn't exist - there was only him and the water and the night sky. He was going to leave soon, and he had one task by this shore he wanted to do first.

He watched the flow of the river a long way beneath the cliff at his feet and then out to the sea and over the falls into infinity. Here, in this lonely place, he let the illusion fade to stand as himself.

"You were right about one thing," he murmured at last. "We are not gods, Allfather. We perish, as she perished. She was slain and you did not protect her. I did not protect her. If I had told you that Thanos had returned, would she live? Would you have strengthened the defenses enough to thwart Malekith? Or would it have changed nothing, because you wouldn't have believed me? Yet… I held my silence out of spite and fear, and so the fault is mine that Mother is gone and Thor is taken."

He formed in his hands a silvery sphere. It was beautiful and pure, like a distant star between his palms, glowing with the strength of his love and grief. "I will save him, Mother, I swear. I have a plan. He said to bring myself and the tesseract, and so I shall, if not the way he expects." His lips made a faint wry smile at the sphere. "No doubt you disapprove. You always did chide me for overdramatic gestures, yet who would I be without them? But I hope…" he hesitated, uncertain whether to speak his hope aloud, and his voice dropped to near inaudible. "I hope you'll be proud of me."

Bringing the sphere up, he let it brush his lips and then raised it higher above his head, before letting it go. "I miss you," he whispered. "But I will see you soon."

His eyes followed as the sphere rose in the air, higher and higher, shining against the night until it became one of many of the stars and passed beyond his vision.

After a moment he felt his solitude broken, and turned his head without alarm, knowing who it was. Sif stood there, some distance away, at first also watching the light and then lowered her head to return his look. Slowly she joined him at the edge of the cliff.

"You followed me?" he asked. She nodded.

"Am I interrupting?" she asked softly. "I can go if you want to be alone."

"No. I'm finished." He didn't move, continuing to watch the flow of the water. "I would have said other things, if I knew that would be the last I spoke to her." But that wasn't what hurt the most. "I should never have said what I did."

She lifted her face to the sea breeze, and to his relief, she didn't ask what he had said. Instead, she murmured, "We all have regrets. I had my own, when I thought you lost. All I could remember were all the wrong words I had said to you… I was fortunate to get you back so it wasn't too late."

"So that is why," he said, and turned to face her, "I want there to be no misunderstanding. No regret that I let this pass in silence and did not tell you that my heart - what remains of it, at least - always is yours." His hand lifted and he brushed her face with his fingertips.

She captured that hand in hers and held it tightly. "Why do you say this now?"

He didn't want to make her suspicious, but he didn't want a lie to be the last words between them. "Because Thanos knows I live and he wants vengeance," he answered. "Foresight is not one of my gifts, to see if he will win."

"He will not," she insisted. "We will fight him."

"You're so beautiful, so fierce," he said in appreciation and bent to kiss her lips. He lingered, reluctant to let them go but pulled back with a sigh. He had to begin his plan. "I think the king must return and do his duty."

"I'll come to you later," she promised.

"I know you can't stay away," he teased, smugly, and started back toward the palace.

She threw a loose stone at him that smacked him in the back. "Just for that, you can wait," she retorted.

He forced a chuckle and then pulled invisibility around himself. As soon as he was beyond her sight, his smile faded away and he glanced back over his shoulder to look at her.

"Remember, Sif," he whispered. "And tell them of what I tried to do. The ledger will never be clean, but at least I might wash some of the blood away."

Later, in the palace, when he was ready to go, he watched Sif for a few minutes, to memorize her face and the fall of her hair, before he headed in secret to the Observatory.

* * *

tbc...


	5. Chapter 5

At the threshold of the Observatory, Loki stopped before taking a deliberate step across. Heimdall awaited him with both hands on the pommel of his great sword and his golden eyes fixed on Loki.

Though the illusion of Odin was wrapped around him, Loki felt Heimdall knew. Then he grew more sure when Heimdall did not bow his head to the king.

Loki let the illusion of Odin's face fade, and Heimdall merely nodded. "You're not surprised, Watcher," Loki said. He wasn't attacking Loki, as he should, discovering Loki had been impersonating the king.

"No," Heimdall answered, in his voice that rumbled and filled the hemispherical interior. "When you sought Thor, your protections faded and I saw you truly."

"You knew for so long?" Loki raised his brows. Keeping his distance from Heimdall, he circled deeper inside the structure to work himself to the right position, in case Heimdall tried to stop him. "And you didn't rouse the entire Einharjar to have me captured or slain for the temerity of my masquerade? I'm impressed with your restraint."

Heimdall turned in place to keep Loki within view but didn't otherwise move. "I observed. I saw Odin in the Odinsleep, I saw you searching for Thor, I saw you with Sif, and I saw you be the king of Asgard for duty, not for power. You are not my enemy, prince. Only when you act as enemy of Asgard."

Loki's smile was brief and wry. "Not recently. And not today."

"No, today you intend to rescue Thor from the lair of a great undefeatable evil alone."

Loki chuckled once. "It sounds so stupid and reckless when you say it that way."

A familiar voice called from the entrance, "Because it is."

Loki whirled, surprised to see Sif there, armed and ready. She glowered at Loki. "Did you think I wouldn't notice all your careful words of farewell and not figure out your plan?"

Loki grimaced. "Obviously I was mistaken."

"Obviously." She stalked forward, eyes not shifting a hair from him as if her glare along was sufficient to pin him to the floor. And probably it was, because he didn't move as she came close. "You aren't going alone."

"Sif-"

"Not alone," she insisted.

His gaze flicked to Heimdall who was watching them with his intent golden eyes, and the faintest smile on his lips that suggested he had no intention of helping Loki out of this predicament.

Loki's eyes went back to hers. "This isn't Vanaheim," he told her. "This place - it's not one of the Nine Realms. There is no way in or out except by portal; I need to alter the Bifrost to punch a hole to reach it and even that will not avail to leave."

"Then how are you planning on leaving?" she asked.

He pulled the tesseract out of his metapocket. Without its carrying case, it was a cube that fit easily in his hand. Her eyes widened at the softly glowing power source, and he knew she didn't know the entire plan. "You took the tesseract? I thought you didn't want to risk it."

He answered without looking at her, "I don't. But I need it. There's no other choice." Then he raised his eyes to her again. "With the tesseract, not even Thanos can stop me from freeing Thor. You should stay here."

"The tesseract doesn't make you omniscient. Or watch your back. You need me," she returned simply. Which he did, always, but he didn't want her to come. Yet arguing too much would reveal the rest, so he nodded acquiescence.

"Then stand on the platform. I need to set new coordinates."

She nodded and went to the end platform, while he went to the center control console. His hand trembled as he laid it in the slot to feed it the coordinates from memory, and the thought of going back made his heart feel like a stone, blocking breath and voice.

_You have the tesseract_, he reminded himself. _This time you go as conqueror, not as half-dead flotsam pulled from the void. This time Thanos will cower from you_.

The power he felt emanating from the tesseract cast a soothing hum against his own atoms. It felt eager, pulling at him, eager for use and battle.

Heimdall followed, sword in hand and ready to activate it. "You are certain of this course?" he asked in a low voice.

Loki didn't answer, because he wasn't at all, but he didn't think he had another choice. There was no one else. Fiddling uselessly with the controls to buy himself another moment, he told Heimdall, "I'll send them out. You must watch for them - Thor may need help."

Golden eyes cut to him. "Not you."

He deliberately misunderstood. "I need no help." He whirled around, and called more loudly, "Activate when we're in position. I'll be powering the transfer through the tesseract, so don't be alarmed."

At Sif's side, he reached for her sword hand and squeezed her fingers. She gave him a curious look, and he smiled back, not intending to tell her that he needed to touch her one more time. But she didn't pull away, nodding her readiness to Heimdall.

Heimdall hesitated, golden eyes beneath his helm meeting Loki's, and Loki knew that Heimdall understood.

"Ready," Loki reassured him and held up the tesseract in his free hand.

Heimdall thrust his sword within to begin activation. Loki felt the energy build, higher and higher, the mechanism spinning as a high-pitched noise grated painfully on his ears. It searched for more and he opened the tesseract. Its power rushed through him into the Observatory. It was… glorious.

Through the flashing power, he glimpsed Heimdall - golden armor all aglow - turn to him and bow his head deeply, an unusual gesture of respect that made Loki more confident that he was choosing rightly.

The energies reached a blinding crescendo, sliding along his skin and then grabbing hold of him tightly as space and time cracked open. He was shoved through, the brilliant rainbow gleam of the Bifrost flashing and then gone.

Leaving him breathless in a place of darkness.

* * *

Sif held sword and shield, as she turned, searching the darkness for enemies. There appeared to be no one except Loki nearby. He had both hands curled around spheres of emerald fire, and they ended up naturally back-to-back.

This place was strange though, black as night, but lit by glowing stones in the wall and the floor, black granite cavern sucking up the light. It felt odd, as if strange creatures stared at her.

"Where is this place?" she whispered.

"Too late to ask that," he muttered, and straightened. "I'm casting the invisibility." He held both hands out and a shower of emerald-and-gold light covered them both. His eyes met hers afterward. "It shouldn't be far. Tread lightly, touch nothing, and kill only when you must."

She followed him, finding it strange that he held no weapon. She knew it was foolish to think when he had the tesseract, which was probably the greatest weapon in the universe, but still, she felt like he needed a dagger to be fully armed. But he went ahead, stepping lightly through the dark tunnels.

There were alien soldiers here - man-sized, and armored, carrying advanced plasma weapons. They didn't notice Loki or Sif sneaking through them. She desperately wanted to kill all of them, but she tightened her grip on her sword and slunk unseen.

It felt a little dishonorable, but she was not about to complain, especially when she and Loki ghosted past a cavern packed full of these strange aliens, far too close to one another and so still she thought at first it might be only the armor without anyone in it.

After they passed beyond, in a tunnel alone, he murmured, "Chitauri. They are a partial hive mind and the soldiers are all interconnected."

She shuddered in disgust, but couldn't reply before they entered a highly guarded area and he gestured her silence. The way was blocked by a single, large Chitauri warrior and Sif was about to stab him with her sword, when Loki sidled up to him, cloaked in invisibility, and pulled a long-bladed dagger from the air which he plunged into the creature's neck. So swift and sure was the blow that the Chitauri didn't even realize it was attacked before it was dead, and Loki held it at the shoulders, balancing the armor until it remained upright.

She watched, impressed. The enemy seemed untouched, even in death, thanks to the heavy armor. It also gave her some idea of the armor's weaknesses.

"It will not last," Loki murmured. "We need to hurry."

They ran through the tunnel, past some more guards, but when the tunnel narrowed and grew dark, Loki's footsteps slowed without explanation. His eyes had gone blank, lost in memories. She grabbed his arm and shook it, hissing between her teeth, to get his attention, and he snapped alert again. Then he pointed to the gathering of six Chitauri outside some sort of dank forcefield-protected chamber.

But they couldn't sneak past all of the guards, and she lifted her blade and nodded that she was ready.

Cupping both hands together, Loki formed a sphere of energy, brighter and brighter, until it overloaded the cloaking spell and the Chirtuari turned toward him. With a grin, he launched the energy at the barrier and the guards before it.

It exploded, and Sif guarded her face with her shield from the shrapnel and shockwave, and attacked.

Sword and shield, attack and defend, harmony of action as she swirled and lunged, stabbing and cutting and ending these enemies who threatened her prince. Who had hurt her beloved, and her homeland.

In brief glimpses she saw Loki tearing down the barrier and fighting off the few Chitauri who dared to combat him instead of her. But they thought a sword was the least dangerous weapon, compared to the power that he wielded - her sword was the last thing they saw.

All their enemies were down and she waited at the opening as Loki ran into the pitch-black tunnel. "Thor! Brother, oh dear ancestors…"

"Loki!" she yelled,"they're coming!"

She could hear the heavy footsteps of a hundred and more Chitauri, getting the alarm and heading for their prisoner. The secret infiltration had just become an invasion to be defended.

Glancing over her shoulder, she could see Thor chained to a stone wall by glowing ropes. His hair was cut short, but his beard had grown, and his head was hanging down. Loki hurried before him. "Thor!" He smacked his brother in the face. "Wake up, we have to go."

Thor roused, as Loki worked on the manacles. "Loki - are you alive, brother? Do you truly live?" he whispered in wonder.

"Yes, yes, of course I'm alive," Loki muttered. "I should never- I am sorry. I meant those words, you should know. But I doubted the Allfather would feel bound by your promise of freedom. Then you got yourself captured and ruined my plan. So here we are again."

One manacle opened and Thor's hand fell heavily on Loki's shoulder, gripping tightly. "Together." The other manacle opened and Loki guided Thor's arm around his shoulders to take him from the wall. Thor shook his head once to clear it, and told Loki urgently, "Thanos is here."

"Yes, I know." Loki's gaze lifted to the ceiling. "He's coming. I need to get you out of here. Sif! Take him."

She moved back toward them to take Thor's weight. He tried to stand himself, but he was weakened greatly, exhausted and in pain, and accepted her shoulder to brace himself, as Loki moved away from them.

He pulled the tesseract free and Thor gasped. "Is that-?"

Loki ignored him, face set, as his grip tightened on the tesseract. A strange electric wind swept around the chamber and then the air cracked open. Like a bolt of lightning but in reverse, a jagged black line appeared in midair, and then started to pull apart, to reveal a strange foggy nothingness on the other side.

It opened widely enough to step through and Loki glanced over his shoulder. "Go, quickly."

"You'll follow?" she demanded.

"Of course. I have to set the spell to destroy this place. Take him and go!"

She nodded and hauled Thor to the gate. He seemed reluctant though, his gaze fixed on Loki as though he could read something there she did not. "Loki…" He reached out his free hand, as if to take hold of Loki or beckon him near.

Loki straightened and the tesseract lit his face pale and shining as the starlight on snow. He smiled at them and the look in his eyes was a strange calm, clear resolve. "Not this time, brother," he answered and gestured.

An invisible force slammed into her and Thor, pushing them into the portal. She tried to resist but there was no stopping that strength in magic, not with the tesseract empowering it, and she stumbled through the opening. Her feet hit a solid floor, and she had to blink in the strange brightness, after the dimness of that other realm. It took a moment for her to realize they were back in the Observatory. Thor pulled from her grip, trying to go back or call lightning or something, bellowing, "No! Loki!" He collapsed. She tried to break his fall, gripping his shoulders, but also looking over her shoulder at the opening.

_Come on, Loki_, she urged him silently. _We have Thor, what's taking so long? What are you doing_?

Instead of spitting out a tall, lean figure in black, green and gold, the portal shut with a gust of air and a popping noise. There was suddenly nothing there. She stared at the empty space where it had been, not comprehending for a moment; it had shut. He hadn't come through.

His name burst from her throat, "Loki!"

Heimdall was at her side, reaching down to check Thor, who was slumped but still conscious. "He intends to collapse the dimensional pocket," Heimdall explained softly, "But that can only be done from within."

She stared at him in horror and dismay, understanding the elaborate lie that Loki had spun. He had known all day what he intended to do; she had thought his plan was to go alone to rescue Thor in some foolish effort to protect her by leaving her behind, but his real plan had been a suicide strike to eliminate the enemy. "No! No, Heimdall, send me back. I will make him stop; we can fight Thanos another way…"

Heimdall shook his head once in refusal, regret in his pale golden eyes. "He made his choice. It cannot be undone."

"No, you great fool, not again," Thor whispered. "Not for me." He buried his head in his hands, stricken.

Sif stared blindly at the central console, numb. Would they even know when it was done? Would she feel it, the final snap of the thread that had bound him to her?

In case he could still hear her, she whispered, "Please, don't do it. Come home." But in her heart, she knew he was set on his course, and no words from her would turn him aside.

* * *

tbc


	6. Chapter 6

Startling her, the chamber filled with a blinding flash of light and crack of thunder.

Her heart flaring with sudden hope that Heimdall was wrong and it was Loki returning, Sif looked up, shielding her eyes from the brilliance, to see Odin, not Loki. It was the king, truly - awake, and aflame with power streaming from Gungnir. It faded, but only enough to look at, as he stepped toward them. "Thor."

"Father?" Thor looked up at him in confusion. "Loki - he - he's going to-"

"I know," Odin answered, his expression grim. "I have observed from my slumber, much has become clear. Heimdall, send me. There will be sufficient power."

Heimdall bowed. "My king."

"You did well, Sif," the king told her. "Care for my son. Thor, remember all that you have learned. I regret much, but never you."

"Father?" Confusion and pain broke across Thor's face as Odin stood on the platform and Heimdall thrust his sword back into the control panel.

"It is your time now, my children. Be wise. Farewell," Odin said. He lifted Gungnir, and with another overwhelming flash, this one tinged with prismatic color, he was gone.

* * *

Loki let the portal shut behind Thor and Sif, and turned to face the entrance to the chamber where Thor had been kept.

With a smile, he held up the tesseract - the power streaming from it was a river. He plucked strands from it and began weaving a tapestry of destruction. This place was artificial, floating in the void between universes, hidden in a crack in Jormungandr. That meant not only was it possible to destroy, but it would take no one else with it. He thought it was probably a bargain he could make regardless, but he was relieved he didn't have to.

He wove his net into the thin bubble around this place, waiting to draw it tight. Meanwhile the familiar feel of heavy dread approached. _Yes, Thanos, I have the tesseract. Come to me, you insect, you are already in my web and I will wrap you in it and destroy you._

The Chitauri gathered outside, but could not penetrate the shield he'd put up. When they drew away for the sound of heavier footsteps without, Loki smiled.

Thanos walked through the shield as if it didn't exist. "You came to me, with my prize. As a good servant should."

Loki saw that face, which held nothing but confidence, and knew he'd made a mistake, as his insides seized with cold. "To destroy you," he declared.

Thanos grinned with dark sharp amusement. "You are brave and foolish as a child." He held out one oversized hand. "Give me the tesseract."

To his horror, Loki felt his foot lift and he took a step nearer to Thanos, without his will. "No," he gasped. He flung himself back and gritted his teeth at the tesseract. He needed to call the power to pull the net closed and destroy Thanos.

Nothing happened.

"Did you think I would ever let you harm me?" Thanos asked with mocking solicitude. "That was the first thing I made you learn."

Loki's middle roiled with an urgent need to be sick. "No, no." Loki pressed himself against the wall, feeling its solidity against his back so he could resist.

_I have the tesseract, I have the most powerful weapon in the universe. I am a god, not a plaything of this creature_.

But all his resistance accomplished was to keep himself against the wall. His legs shook with the conflicting need to stay and to move. Nothing he attempted allowed him to cast the merest spark at Thanos.

Thanos watched, amused by his struggle, but without any true concern that Loki would fight off the compulsion.

Loki could feel all that power in the tesseract; it hummed within his reach, a river - an ocean - that could crush this entire dimension, if only he could close his hand around it.

"No, I will not," he hissed in defiance.

"You will, little Laufeyson," Thanos said, and Loki bit his lip in revulsion at the name and yet as his knees sagged, he took a step from the wall, one step nearer.

"You will give it to me," Thanos said and grinned with pleasure. "Then you will kneel."

Loki focused his eyes on the tesseract, trying to block out the sight of Thanos and activate the spell. With all his might he strained to call the power.

And still his hand moved, lifting the tesseract toward Thanos.

Power flared - brilliant and golden - and for one relieved moment, he thought he had managed to activate the net, before his eyes widened at the sight of Odin standing there. Gungnir shone like a beacon as the king hurled Thanos from the room in a wave of lightning.

"My son kneels to no one!"

Loki stared. Odin was here? Odin was awake and he was _here_?

Odin turned to Loki. "Give me the tesseract, Loki, quickly."

Loki stirred his quivering limbs to motion and held out the tesseract. Odin's fierce blue eye fixed on him, as his hand closed around Loki's and the tesseract beneath. "Hear me," he requested urgently. "I beg you, _listen_; you have always been my son. No less than that. I will not let you sacrifice yourself to do what I could have, but refused, long ago. You need to live and grow into the man you can be. I saw the wisdom that grew beneath the mask; that is the greatness that was always your true birthright, if you would seize it." He took the tesseract in one hand and with the other, pressed Gungnir into Loki's numb hands. "Go."

Loki could only stare at him, riven to the soul, lips parted with words he wanted to speak but couldn't find. Angry demands and hurt accusations all fluttered past, but the only word he could voice was a soft, "Papa?"

The name seemed to hit Odin with the force of a blade, and he flinched. "Oh, Loki, forgive me."

The air slashed open, and the portal widened to expose the intra-dimensional nothingness. "GO!" Odin commanded and turned away, the tesseract flaring with power in his hands.

Thanos was approaching then, grinning. "Saving the Frost Giant runt, Borsson? So sentimental of you."

Odin stood tall and strong, years shed like a cloak he no longer needed, his voice not loud but certain. "To avenge the hurts you gave _both_ my sons. And to finish what I started two thousand years past. Loki, you must go."

Loki swallowed hard and licked his lips then blurted, "Tell Mother I love her, too." And he threw himself into the portal to safety.

* * *

There was a crack of thunder and lightning and another gate formed. Clutching each other in mutual anxiety, Sif and Thor stared at it in dread and hope.

A figure in green and black plunged through and slammed to the floor. Loki rolled over, to point Gungnir at the opening. Golden fire streamed from it, slamming into another force that was trying to escape. Jaw clenched, Loki didn't stop until the portal shut with a shockwave that knocked them all back.

He slumped to the floor, Gungnir slipping from his hand, and Sif rushed to him. "Loki! Are you all right? What happened?"

His eyes were closed and face taut with pain. "Father - he - he took it from me..."

Before she thought about it, she smacked Loki across the cheek. "You were trying to kill yourself! How could you?"

"Sif, how could I not?" he asked, looking miserable. "To fix my wrongs, but now the king has taken my place and he said - he said -" His voice shook and he couldn't finish.

She relented and cupped his cheek. "He said he loved you."

"Now he's truly gone." His eyes held the blankness of stunned grief and something more, something worse, as though a candle flame had been snuffed out.

"But you're not, and I have to be glad about that," she murmured and touched her lips to his. Her hair spilled down, and Loki pushed a hand through it, to hold her to him with desperate urgency as if he needed to pull her warmth into him.

"I see…" Thor said from her left, sounding wearily surprised but amused, too, "I have entered a strange alternate reality where you two are kissing. Again."

Sif pulled back, startled by the reminder he was there. She turned her head to see Thor hitching himself across the floor toward them. He already looked stronger than when they'd first found him.

Loki saw him, too, and the guilt shone from him. "I am so sorry, I swear he wanted me to leave, I would never have left him, if-"

Thor reached them and disregarding any lingering weakness of his own, gathered Loki's thin frame to haul it up against his chest in a tight embrace. "No, stop, Loki," he said thickly. "Father acted to save you and all of us, we should celebrate his courage. And now I see you; I see my brother again. You're back- truly you've come home."

Loki hesitated then let his head fall to Thor's shoulder and he closed his eyes. "I'm glad you're home, too," he whispered.

Sif watched them, and she smiled. At last, both of them were home, where they belonged.

* * *

epilogue to follow!


	7. Epilogue

NOTE: here's the final chapter/epilogue! I hope you've enjoyed the story. (and yes, we're skipping over some potentially interesting stuff here - this was written for a gift exchange and it barely made the deadline at this length. perhaps someday I'll write what happens in the middle...)

enjoy!

.

* * *

**Epilogue **

**.**

Sif had finished sparring with Fandral and headed to find Loki in the garden, when she heard his voice.

"No, I certainly will not," Loki refused loudly. "Just because you feel it necessary to go play with your mortal friends-"

"Loki-" Thor tried to interrupt, but Loki was having none of it.

Sif grinned, hurrying her steps to meet them.

"-doesn't mean I have any wish to join you, at all. I'm untangling two thousand years of mismanaged accounts, because Father had many skills but good at sums was not one of them. And I'm writing Mother's notes into a book, and I do not have time to visit the poor benighted souls on Midgard. Even if I wanted to visit them, I doubt they want to see me, so it's all rather a moot point."

"I was trying to say," Thor overrode him finally, "that I was making you regent."

Sif rounded the dragon topiary in time to see Loki blink. "Oh. Why didn't you say so?"

Thor grinned at him and sighed. "I would have if you had let me. Also you are officially proclaimed my heir. I signed it this morning."

"Well…" He hesitated, and his eyes flickered with uncertainty, but he expressed none of it, saying drily, "So formal, I'm impressed. If you insist. But don't think you can escape your duties for too long; I will fetch you. Don't think I won't."

Thor clapped him on the back. "I know." He saw Sif and raised his other hand in greeting at her. "And I trust you will make sure he gets into at least a little trouble, Sif? I scarce recognize this … loremaster."

"Indeed, I shall," she agreed cheerfully. "Perhaps we should adopt disguises and go start a war in Ljosalfheim?"

Thor laughed. "Only if you save some for me."

Loki rolled his eyes. "You should go with him, Sif, and hopefully Midgard will teach you both some better humor. Stark at least had some wit."

"You should both come with me," Thor told him eagerly, trying to take advantage of Loki's seeming willingness. "We can tell them about Thanos-"

"No." The single word was abrupt and adamant, and it took Thor a moment to find words to follow it.

"Very well, another time." He clasped Loki's shoulder. "I would have you fight at my side. But I know the Realm is in good hands, brother. I will return with stories of valor, and you will both be sorry you missed the battle!" With a nod in her direction, he took off toward the palace.

As soon as he was gone, Sif moved closer to Loki, who had found something fascinating to watch in the spray of the water droplets of the small decorative fountain.

"You should go with him," Loki suggested. "If they called Thor, it must be a decent fight."

For a moment she was tempted, since she hadn't had a decent fight against enemies since they'd invaded the Chitauri base to rescue Thor months ago. But glancing at Loki's profile, she didn't want to leave him. She gave a shrug. "If he needs help, he'll tell Heimdall and then I'll go."

In the months following the Odinsons return, which had been full of the funeral for Odin, the explanations of how Loki had impersonated him, and Thor's coronation, Loki had kept busy through all of it. She'd thought he might resent or contest Thor's accession, but he had insisted on it himself, seeming glad to foist it on Thor. He'd been surprised and gratified when Thor bestowed Gungnir on him, and seemed content to return to being the prince.

While she thought it was good that he was less angry, she tucked the sad thought away that something had broken in him. The loss of both parents in quick succession, including Odin's sacrifice, Thor's near loss, and whatever Thanos had done to him in their confrontation, had burned more than his anger. On the surface he seemed well, if quieter than before, but she was privy to his nights, when nightmares still clawed his sleep to shreds.

"You should tell him, Loki," she murmured. "He suspects, you know."

"It's been months." Loki flung out his fingers toward the fountain and froze all the water droplets to ice. They fell with rather musical tones and not, given his grimace of disappointment, the crash he'd wanted. "He's hardly bothered by what happened, and I'm still a child afraid of the dark."

He would only fall asleep if she was with him, and even then his sleep was rarely restful, unless he drank sleeping draughts which he hated because they also made his powers inaccessible. But this was the first time he'd admitted he was annoyed that Thor had recovered from his captivity without much difficulty, while Loki was still struggling.

She wrapped an arm around his waist. "Did it occur to you that's because we reached him in time? You had no such fortune, beloved." He automatically extended an arm across her shoulders to hold her close. "You're not a child - believe me, I know - but you need some time to heal. Remember, we're immortal. The time seems endless now, but in years to come you'll remember these days as a passing shadow, no more."

That seemed to reassure him, and he turned to face her, smiling into her eyes. "A shadow perhaps, but also a light. For these days brought you, and I can never regret that."

She wrapped a hand around the back of his neck to pull his mouth to hers.

"You could cast an illusion right here, so we can do whatever we want," she suggested, mumbling against his lips, as her other hand slipped beneath his surcoat.

He didn't answer as anything but a hum, deepening the kiss again, as his long fingers caressed her hip and down her thigh.

Then he abruptly drew back, dropping his hands from her and his eyes alight with outrage. "That- that snake!" he exclaimed. "_That_'s why he wanted everything so formalized! He left me that _excruciating_ water rights case tomorrow. I gave him a pile of documents and I bet he didn't read a single one. He's going to visit Jane Foster and laugh about how he stuck me with that tangle. There's probably no fight on Midgard at all!"

She burst into laughter at his aggrieved tone. For a second he glowered at her, offended, but then heard himself and chuckled, too. She asked, arching a brow, "Perhaps Thor learned something from his tricky little brother, after all, hm?"

He grumped at her, but didn't deny it. His gaze slid to the fountain, and his head cocked to one side, considering something.

"Oh dear. I know that look," she teased.

"The true problem with that case is lack of water. And it ocurrs to me that I don't have to _decide_ the case, I can fix it." His smile was bright at her, and though she was disappointed by the apparent end of more pleasurable activities, his enthusiasm was contagious. "I don't have only lore, I have power, Sif. I can use the most powerful weather controlling artifact in the entire Nine Realms. I can bring them water. Tell the stables to saddle the horses, I want to be there by nightfall!" he called to her over his shoulder. He ran toward the palace, disappearing halfway to the steps because he was so excited he had to teleport.

She watched after him, laughing softly. He'd grown as a ruler and a man, pressed and shaped by pain and guilt, but he was still the boy of mercurial moods and an eager desire to make grand gestures.

Life would never be dull.

* * *

end.

Thanks for reading!

(also, if _Frozen_ is something you like, I began to post a crossover today: The Snow Queen and the Ice Demon. in which a frozen heart is thawed and there are FAMILY FEELS of parents and children, sisters and brothers, all over the place.)


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